Sex On Fire
by She's my Morphine
Summary: ONESHOT Can hopeless romantic, Spencer Reid, make his strange fantasies come true when the power goes out?  not a great summary I know. Titled after the song by Kings of Leon


**"Sex On Fire"  
>Rating: M<br>Summary: Can hopeless romantic, Spencer Reid, make his strange fantasies come true? (not a great summary I know)  
>DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Criminal Minds or any of the characters.<br>Author's Note: something to pull me out of my funk. Pure fluffy smut. Enjoy loves ;)**

Once upon a frostbitten stormy night a young doctor concluded his latest literary obsession. Dr. Reid rubbed his tired eyes after a four hour binge, immersing himself in his current guilty pleasure, an old Victorian romance novel. It was frightfully uncharacteristic of him, so he enjoyed the solace while it was drenched in the light, but now he quietly and nervously awaited a friend to save him from the formidable darkness of his vacant household. The independent young agent had managed to start a warm, enticing fire in the living space's fire place. Light pooled from it onto the floor, extending it's reach just short of the corners of the wall across from it. The crackling of the embers calmed him, a little noise was more comforting than dust collecting silence, and certainly more comforting than the blustering wind, shaking branches and pouring rain. Spencer stretched his legs across the tarp he'd made on the floor of pillows and blankets right in front of the fire, and forgetting his arousal, he felt like a child camping out in the living room. Minutes ticked by on a waterproof watch on his wrist, he wondered if the man of the hour would ever show. His eyes wandered to the abandoned literature, and fantasies whirred in his head, replacing characters with more familiar faces. An inevitable smirk swam across his face and he felt anticipation. Then there it was to startle him from his deliciously vivid desires. The loud harsh knock of a powerful, self assured fist rattled the air and the crackling embers seemed to abscond with Spencer's inner sanctum. Butterflies, no it was drumming. How could he really identify the feeling in the pit of his stomach? He couldn't be bothered with it, just answer the door.

He heard the voice muddled behind the door. "Reid? Is everything okay in there?" Spencer swallowed an imaginary lump in his throat and gently turned the brass knob, certain his cheeks weren't as flush as before. He took a deep breath to obtain his full composure and opened the door to his co-worker. The ebony man dripped with rain water that and smelled distinctly of pavement. His Ivory teeth flashed, a beacon that sent a quiver down Spencerr's spine, but he did not fumble. He was statuesqe and shining off sensuality, at least to Spencer he was, the way he was grinning. "So, you gonna let me in or what?"

"Of couse, of course." Spencer cleared his throat and stepped out of the way as to let Derek Morgan into the foyer of his home. He tried to hush a heart in craving. He pursed his lips and said nothing, he didn't know what to say. Dark eyes looked him up and down.

"So how scared of the dark are you that you had to call me over?" Morgan teased. It was then that Spencer's eyes fell upon the large brown take out back clutched in one of Derek's fists. "I brought Chinese." There was the grin again. Spencer fought back his tells. The blushing, the shaking, the stammering, he locked it up and demanded it stay there for the night.

"We don't have to use chopsticks do we? I'm just gonna embarass myself?" Spencer asked.

"Well, no." Derek raised an eyebrow, confused by this statement. "You have silverware here, don't you pretty boy?"

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed as he thought for a moment. "Let me go check," he finally answered. He scuffled into the kitchen with the candle he took to the door. Morgan could hear him searching through drawers and cabinets and dropping a couple things inside, until finally his goal seemed obtained. Spencer returned to him holding a box labled, _"Plasticware: forks." _He was also holding a pile of paper plates.

"So, no silverware?"

"I don't like doing dishes okay? So I just buy these," Spencer confessed.

Morgan shook his head in disbelief and Spencer led him to the living room. There he left the candle on the coffee table beind the tarp he made on the floor. He also set down their plates and forks, and sat on the floor awaiting for Morgan to sit next to him. Morgan laughed a rich and glorious laugh that suited his heavy chest. Spencer imagined the inner workings of the beautiful mans voice. He tried to shake it off and chuckled along.

Morgan sat down beside him and opened up the paper bag releasing the oriental aroma of dirty rice, teriyaki, and egg-rolls. Spencer's mouth watered as hunger finally hit his realization. Still he let Derek have the courtesy of opening boxes and distributing generous servings onto his own plate before indulging. But dinner is a hopelessly boring topic, and despite having an idetic memory, it was the least of Spencer's cognitive concerns.

It was when Derek's elbow began to rest over the coffee table that things took a turn for the memorable. He stopped his blathering about the weather, pausing to notice the difference between the table and the novel under his arm. It was like the Earth stopped and the wind and the rain hushed to watch Spencer's mortification. His face in fact flushed and he braced himself for ridicule as Morgan reached behind him to scoop up the book and gaze at the cover. And so the Spencer's universe came to a halt and his heart stopped pounding the drum tune of secret desire. The fantasy buckled down to the floor and melted into cruel, blunt reality. In his mind he watched a butcher chop off his dignity and throw it in a pile of scraps, and all before anything had actually happened. Spencer, so prone to panic never thought of Morgan as rational or liberal.

"Ooh, romance novel. I didn't know you were into that stuff!" Morgan teased. He was jocular and lightheartedly punched Spencer in the arm. Morgan didn't seem to be realizing just what kind of novel it was. Spencer was hoping he wouldn't but sure enough, he turned the book over to read the terribly cheesy description in cursive on the back. "Oh. Ohhh," Morgan came to understand. "So what's the appeal? The literary function of the historical ettiqute towards rapid and unfamiliar social movements or what?" Spencer couldn't believe it. Morgan was oblivious.

"Well, yes that's a very interesting observation." Spencer was bright red and burning up. His heart started again rapid-fire, like that of a humming bird.

Morgan glanced up from the book straight into Spencer's crystalline eyes. "Relax. You know you could have just told me."

"It's all just part of the story. I mean, homosexuality was actually quite trendy in those times," Spencer began a rant, continuing his attempts to bury the question on the table.

"Spencer," it was one of the few times Derek ever said his name, "You don't have to do that. The story is all about this...Alexander and Marcus couple. It's a romance novel. It's okay." After this Spencer said nothing, he did not know what he could say in his defense, or if he wanted to. Derek was so set to prove himself tolerant, should he ruin it? And something burning inside him, wanted Derek to know. Only then could there be a chance of his fantasies becoming a reality. At least it was out in the open now. He tried. Much to his surprise, Derek opened the book and began reading from chapter one in a luxurious, heavy, intoxicating tone.

"Alexander had never had such a love affair with a season before. Any one could tell you that he had lived through thirty-two springtimes but no one can tell you if he ever truly experienced a single one of them. To this springtime he opened his eyes and realized he had been a virgin to it all this time. Snowy white and in the peak of his manhood he came to know the beauty of contrast. He saw it in the side by side garbs of honeybees, yellow and onyx. He observed it in the swirling and solid colors on flowers. It was significant in the pink veins buried in the shallow white film of peony petals. He was particularly fond of the less natural contrast between the black and white keys on the harpsichord in the parlor. He would have never noticed it, if not for the window being left open so that the dogwood blossoms could fly in and breath out their fowl smell into the sanctity of his home. He was grateful for nature in many ways that year, but this was by far the greatest gift and discovery the earth could have given him. He fondled two of the keys and listened to their echoing harmony. If only he could leave the parlor like this! In the tune, in the wind, the blossoms and in all of the contrast, he felt a relationship so much more sacred than a marriage! This was no contract or white dress, this was the love affair his heart awaited but he would have never known it if not for stinking dogwood blossoms. He left the window open like that for six days so vines with honey-suckles started to entangle themselves in the paintings on the wall. The maid was appalled and worrying that Alexander was sick, led him out of the parlor and called the doctor. He would not hear of it though. He was not ill, he was in love."

Morgan was confused but he read on into the sixth chapter. "Marcus was taught chains were a black man's enemy, but now he felt being bound to Alexander was not so bad." No romantic relationship was yet established but he continued until chapter nine, then eleven.

"Oh my god! They're just sharing passing glances and flirting and occasionally holding hands! When is anything actually going to happen? And if Alexander loves Marcus so much why isn't he breaking off his engagement to Lassabelle?" Derek demanded becoming impatient with the story.

This broke Spencer out of the hypnosis of Derek's sultry reading. With awakened eyes he looked up at the amazing nararator. "It's supposed to be classy and romantic. The exagaration of their feelings for one another is supposed to build up anticipation," Spencer chuckled.

"Well you read it! How much longer will I have to settle for lingering glances?" Morgan was becoming dangerously obsessed with the story, the clock read three A.M.

Spencer's eyes were half lidded and heavy. "I don't know. How long have you and I been settling for lingering glances?" He then let himself enjoy the very first and easily the hottest datum of his fantasies. He tortured himself with the heat of the moment right before the kiss, when he is most hungry for his long time crush. When he could taste Derek's breath, but did not quite allow himself to have it yet The lust was intense and when their lips finally met, due to the Derek's anxious and literature fed longing, it was like fire. Their lips ignited and anticipation sizzled off of them, atomizing into long forgotten steam. Morgan dropped the book beside him and pulled Spencer onto his lap, deepening the kiss, he couldn't get enough. They could not be close enough. Spencer was almost breathless as he felt his bony chest crushing against Derek's taught body. He pulled away to inhale and Derek took speedy advantage of this.

The darker man gently coarsed Spencer's arms into the air and tugged his shirt over his head to be thrown across the room. The flames bright orange light licked Spencer's pale white shoulders and chest. He was drizzling with sex appeal, so Derek pullled the little lover into a desperate french kiss and tugged at the fly of his jeans.

Spencer's eyes rolled back as their tounges danced and engaged in combat, whatever you call it, Derek was winning him over. He let Derek undo his fly and then lay him down on the tarp, right on the floor. Morgan proceeded to nip at Spencer's vanilla collarbone and the white man's low moan joined the crackling fire and the rain's pitter patter, but as a leader, louder than them all. It gave Derek drive to keep it going. He slid his hand down the side of the younger man's bare torso and started playing with his ever sensative hip bone and it elicted a startlingly arousing reaction. "Oh Derek!" Spencer whispered.

Derek forced Spencer's jeans around his ankles and tore off his own shirt in anticipation. He couldn't get derobed fast enough. He did take the time to drink in the glorious image of his young lover, totally bare and vulnerable on the floor. He even generously kissed the man's body all over, sending a surge of goosebumps all over Spencer's legs and arms. "Aaah, Derek." Spencer shimmied off the floor and worked on Morgan's belt. Derek took the time to breath, sitting back letting Spencer tug his jeans and boxers down at the same time. He was more than ready to be completely naked, completely one with his lover for the night. Then his head tilted back onto the coffee table as he felt Reid's warm, wet lips wrap around his thriving cock. His eyes watered with ecstacy as Spencer worked all the way down his shaft. The boy's mouth was like a dream, a beautiful lucid dream. Derek's thighs were really set ablaze when Reid started moaning as he suckled the tip and began to deep throat him. He could hardly contain himself.

Spencer stopped and gazed up at the man he'd lured into his home. "I need you now Derek. I can't wait any longer, I can't just glance at you. I want you." He didn't have to say that twice.

Pinning the man to the floor, Derek braced himself against his lover for entrance and slowly sank himself in. Spencer moaned loudly as Derek's tip leveled itself with the spot he longed to be touched. Derek's groan echoed through out the house as he slowly began pumping himself inside of Doctor Reid. It was the most amazing sensation. "Oh God Spencer, you're so tight!" Derek moaned as he gripped the man's thighs to get in deeper.

"AAAaaah!" Spencer's back arched in near orgasm. He was surprisingly sensative, or else, Derek was the best lover he'd ever had. He wasn't sure which and he didn't care. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he didn't hold back the screams trapped inside his throat for so long. Derek was encouraged and excited. He started going faster sending Spencer on a head reeling ride to the cliffs of enlightenment inducing pleasure. "OH GOD DEREK!"

The flames licked their bodies and looking down at his man, Derek finally understood the beauty in contrast as described by Alexander. He lapped it up, bringing his head down to nip at Spencer's jaw line and down his neck. Spencer was throbbing now. He couldn't take much more this much was for sure, and neither could Derek.

"Oh god, Derek it's sooooo good. I'm-!" Spencer's eyes snapped shut as his back arched again. His toes curled and locked painfully that way as Spencer reached his peak. The sight was so entoxicating that his contrasting partner released himself inside of his lover and they collapsed exhausted on the floor. The sun rose and it was early springtime.


End file.
